


Perspective

by Reivalk



Category: Metal Gear
Genre: Angst and Self-Loathing, CPR time, M/M, Post-Tanker, hugs and emotion and all that good shit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-22
Updated: 2017-01-22
Packaged: 2018-09-19 07:29:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9425924
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Reivalk/pseuds/Reivalk
Summary: This wasn't exactly how he'd imagined their first kiss, Otacon thinks as freezing rain cascades down his hood onto his partner's ashen, glassy-eyed face. He laces his numb fingers on top of Snake's breastbone again, and prepares for another round of CPR.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Oh look, another post-tanker fic. *throws it onto the pile of about 3 million that this fandom has collectively written already* God you guys I'm so unique and interesting aren't I?
> 
> This was mostly written stream-of-consciousness on my phone at 3 in the morning so I apologize if it seems a bit... wooden? at times? Anyway, enjoy <3 OTP train can't stop won't stop

Snake and Otacon’s technical first kiss is when Otacon has to give him CPR on a tiny boat in the middle of the storm-wracked Hudson, while freezing rain cascades down the sides of his coat hood and drips off his hair onto his partner’s ashen, glassy-eyed face.

…17, 18, 19-

Otacon is trying very hard not to hyperventilate because it might mess up the rhythm of his thrusts. It’s made more difficult by the fact that he needs to exhale for what feels like an eternity as he blows air into Snake’s lungs.

28\. 29. 30. Tilt head. Pinch nose. Two breaths. 30 compressions. Lather, rinse, repeat. He’s struggling to take deep enough breaths to do just that.

1, 2, 3, 4, 5…

He begins to gasp for air as he starts to descend into a full-on panic attack. Wasn’t the fight or flight response supposed to make people’s heads clearer? Or supposed to give somebody superhuman strength of body and will, to allow them to escape a horrible, dangerous situation? What a fucking myth. Either that or he’s just weak.

Weak.

20, 21, 22…

Snake is in the process of dying because of him. Entirely because of him, and here he is failing at CPR in order to try to make up for his gigantic fucking mistake.

28, 29, 30. Tilt head, pinch nose, two breaths. 1, 2, 3…

The tears falling from his chin are indistinguishable from the rain that pummels Snake’s chest under his hands. His utility harness is almost getting in the way, but thankfully Otacon’s hands are narrow enough to fit between the two straps.

The man he loves and trusts more than anything in this world is going to die. The curse he carries where anybody he even remotely cares for dies is showing such merciless consistency that it’s making him want to plunge into the water currently wildly rocking the boat and never surface. Go the same way Snake will. He didn’t believe in any sort of afterlife, though, so it's not like he'll ever see him again.

16\. 17. 18. His arms are getting very tired. How fitting was it that Snake drowned? Just like Emma almost did? Just like his Father actually did? All three of these tragedies are directly or indirectly his doing. What a god damned scumbag he is, killing people like this.

No. Snake can’t die. He is incapable of dying. Otacon will have no fucking clue what to do next if he dies. He relies on Snake so much, for everything. 

“Please don’t die.” Otacon speaks for the first time since his throat nearly gave out from screaming his partners name over the bellowing roar of the storm currently slamming into Manhattan, before the dot indicating Snake’s presence (alive or dead, nanomachines continued to work for quite a few hours after the body ceased to draw oxygen) had crept out of the right wall of the Soliton Radar box floating discreetly in the corner of his visual field. He had gunned the motor and gotten as close as possible before spotting his partner face-down, drifting eerily.

He had no memory of how he managed to reach down and hoist a 180-pound mercenary into a violently swaying boat. Maybe that’s where the superhuman fight or flight abilities had kicked in, but whatever those were had definitely left him by now. 

“Please don’t die.” He speaks those three words over and over again, one per thrust. Please 28. Don’t 29. Die 30. How many rounds of CPR had he done? He doesn’t even know anymore. It’s hard to focus with your heart in your throat and your lungs constricted with fear.

With trembling hands he tilts Snake’s head back again and presses his nostrils closed, he begins to lean forward when Snake gives a violent jerk under him and makes a thick, strained gasping noise. Otacon reels back in shock and for an instant a thought of “I killed him” flashes through his brain before he realizes. 

He’s alive.

“OhmygodholyshitSnake-” the words come indistinguishably pouring out of his mouth as he tries to lift his partner into a semi-reclining position against his lap. Snake makes no motion of having heard him, or no acknowledgement of his presence. He stares ahead, mouth open slightly, eyes still glazed before they widen and he slowly beings his hands to his mouth. Even through a haze of tears Otacon recognizes that gesture and quickly, almost violently turns Snake to his side. The soldier immediately vomits up what seems like a quart of seawater. the sounds of his retching barely pierce the din of the storm, bringing Otacon’s dazed brain back to the early days of Philanthropy when a short-haired Snake was still trying to curb his alcohol problem.

A crack of lightning throws the boat into brilliance and throws Otacon’s hearing into a short, high pitched whine. Snake gives another jerk at the noise before rolling himself back onto his back, eyes squeezed shut against the rain and mouth open.

Otacon is on him in an instant, once again trying to pull him up into a leaning position, and succeeding. Shivering and squinting his eyes, snake rests against his lap, head to his right.

“Otacon.” He can barely make out his codename against the storm. He leans forward and presses his forehead to snake’s chest as he begins to sob in relief. Now he can relax. Now he can swallow, breathe again.

“I’m here. It’s me.” Is all he can manage though, relaxing isn’t as easy as it seems.

“Otacon,” Snake speaks a bit louder, but his voice sounds like somebody dragged a rake across his trachea. More than usual, Otacon caught himself thinking in a delirious burst of half-assed humor.

“Did you… perform CPR?”

“Yes.” Otacon clenches his teeth to hold back further sobs. His whole world is minimized to the feel of the boat beneath him and his best friend(more than that)’s alive, breathing body against him. To say he feels relieved is an understatement. Snake would probably never understand just how much he loved him-

Snake shifts beneath him and suddenly he is crushed to his partner in a tight, wet hug. He hears ragged, quick panting against his ear and he swears he can feel snake’s heart thumping wildly. “Holy shit, Hal, you saved me. You- I-” he’s breathing too hard and shaky to form more words, Otacon has never heard snake cry before, and he scrabbles, claws his hands at Snake’s back to try to press himself closer to the one thing that keeps him tethered to this earth. Snake's body is cold but firm, and his hands are trembling against Otacon's back.

This was probably the most comforting hug he had been given in his life, ever. Despite the circumstances.

“We had protocol, you aren't supposed to rescue me... too dangerous...” Snake manages after a few seconds, his voice thick with emotion. He tilted his head down to bury his face in Otacon’s shoulder. "Can't believe I mean this much to you, are you fucking stupid?" His words carry no malice as they vibrate through Otacon's clavicle. "You're putting the entire mission... on the line..." Snake gives a gasp and continues to tremble.

Otacon feels a gigantic pang of what can only be described as absolute love as he relaxes his hands on Snake's back and begins to rock them gently back and forth. Dave is okay. The mission went to shit, but Dave is okay. This is all that matters. 

"Dave, I seriously thought you were about to die! You have no idea how fucking-" He wheezes in a breath involuntarily. "-worried sick I was, more than that, don't you fucking dare tell me I'm stupid and endangering anything as if sitting on my ass and letting you die is safe-!"

Snake loosens his hold on Otacon and pulls back, then gingerly moves down to lean against him with an exhausted groan. "I'm not actually mad- dont have energy to be mad- nobody has ever ... saved my life like that before, I just don't know how to react." He was beginning to slur his words. "Hal, thank you. Thank you so much. 's all I can say".

Another crack of lightning makes the both of them jump, and Otacon suddenly remembers exactly where they are, and exactly how screwed they're going to be.  
"Snake..." He says as he scans the shoreline to try to find where he had come from. There, the weird shape of that building's window was familiar. He shifts Snake off of his lap and moves to the rear of the boat to start the engine again.  
"What are we going to do? I.... I fucked up."

Snake sits up slightly, his face clenched in pain. "We'll m... ngh... -manage. I don't know what's gonna happen either, but I'm alive. You're alive. I don't care, honestly. Too fucking tired. 'Think I also broke some ribs?"

"You can sleep later, we need to get out of here." 

The boat speeds along the dark blue water again, and Otacon's teeth chatter as rain stings his face. But he doesn't feel cold, not at all. All he feels is relief.

"I might have a concussion too, my head's not workin' properly. Shit..." Otacon feels his stomach clench as he scoots over to Snake and tries to get a good look at his eyes. He definitely had uneven pupils. He swallows.

"Just hang on. We're almost there." Otacon says as he turns back to slow the engine as they get closer to the dock.

They stop, and Otacon ties the boat to the dockpole as quickly as he can. He gets out of the boat and crouches at the edge of the dock to offer Snake his hand. He takes it, but makes no motion to stand.

"Hal..."

Snake's head is tilted towards the sky, and rain bounces off his features in a silvery, jittery aura. He gives Otacon's arm a squeeze before slumping his head towards him, staring with glassy eyes at somewhere near Otacon's stomach.

"You're amazing. You really are."

Otacon feels his heart give a leap before the mission-critical part of his brain shoves those feelings away. 

"That's probably the concussion talking. Up you go, big guy." He tugs hard at Snake's arm and feels some resistance but Snake eventually stands, swaying slightly before stepping off the boat and onto the dock.

They somehow, miraculously, make their way into their van without being spotted and then speed to their apartment.

Hal would expect his mind to explode with anxiety during this time, while packing up his and Dave's things so that they could get out of New York, but he feels eerily calm. It will be okay. They are going to manage and keep going, just like Dave said, just like they always did. 

Hal felt strong. Strength and resilience were usually things he associated entirely with David. Looking at the snoring heap of blankets and mess of hair (He really needed to cut it) that was his partner, hunched in the backseat of their car, he couldn't help but feel like maybe, some of that strength had transferred to him before this disaster happened.

Dave had called him amazing. Hal feels his heart clench as he finally allows warm emotion to flood it, sighing and leaning back against the driver's seat as streetlights pass over his line of vision. Despite his massive mistake that jeopardized both their lives and possibly their entire future as partners, All Dave could see was that he saved his life. He didn't care about the mistakes.

Nobody had ever not cared about his mistakes before.

Nobody had ever embraced him with so much love and relief and emotion after he made those mistakes. 

Hal half-smiles in vague embarrassment as he hastily wipes away a tear with the heel of his palm. He was just exhausted and strung out from tonight's emotional roller-coaster. No need to jump to conclusions, he still had hours of driving to do and couldn't get distracted.

In the backseat behind him, David wraps himself tighter in the warm blankets and continues to snore, drifting cozily in the first dreamless sleep he's had in years.


End file.
